The Fire in Her Eyes
by CrazedRaven
Summary: Aemilia Dunsbury was mysteriously sent away by her parents from Lordaeron when the undead plague began to take hold. Now training as a mage in Stormwind, she goes on a journey to find her parents and figure out what happened in her homeland.


The streets of Old Town were not by any means grandiose in comparison to the more prosperous Trade District, bustling with all manners of trade, noise, and people dancing on mailboxes for some odd reason. They were also unsafe at night, running amok with ruffians and rogues at certain hours. While certainly having a claim to being the only part of Stormwind to survive the First and Second Wars, there were much better places to live in than Old Town.

Yet, during one of those crime-ridden nights, a long man in a long robe managed to brave the rat-infested streets of that district. He walked past the barracks and found a rundown door to a house that had seen better days.

The door opened, revealing a middle aged woman with dark hair that was beginning to gray.

"Who is it?" she said, in an accent that was very telling of her impoverished background.

"I come representing the Wizard's Sanctum." The robed man produced a piece of paper with a seal, with the shape of an eye with two lightning bolts below it.

"What's that," the lady asked, as if most of the words had completely soared over her head.

"I'm a mage, ma'am. I've come to inquire about a girl. May I come in?"

The lady gave her a queer, furrow-eyed look for a minute before letting him in.

The mage noticed that there was very little room. There was not much of a sitting room, the fireplace had only a small flame, which he quietly increased with a wave of his hand.

A man emerged from what appeared to be his quarters. He was bald, with some brown hair around the sides and back. His clothes were not that of the workers in Westfall and Redridge Mountains, but they were a slight step up. Hard labor might have been in his life, but no more.

"What brings you to our humble abode, milord?" The man had a similar accent, one that matched the aforementioned peasants.

"I have come looking for children with latent arcane abilities, and your child might be one of them." The mage spoke slowly and deliberately. "May I have a seat?" He pointed to a chair.

"Of course, milord." The man said, rushing to his chair and pulling it back for him. "But I don't understand what you mean? Your words are little big for me noggin'."

"Your child can be a mage." The mage said, plainly.

The former peasant and his wife's eyes suddenly beamed. "A mage? You mean one of them folks who can burn and freeze people?"

The mage chuckled. "Yes, we do that sometimes, but there is a lot more we can do."

"One moment, milord. Let me fetch the girl." The woman said. She walked back towards the room opposite their quarters and yelled for her.

"I'm sorry to have disturbed you at such an hour." The mage said, lifting his hood, revealing grey hair and a headband with a blue gem in the middle.

"No, no." The man said. "Not every day do we get a visit from proper folk. At night, too! You didn't worry about getting knifed or anything?"

"I've faced dangers worse than what the Old Town can throw at me, but I thank you for your concern." The mage said.

"Here she is, milord." The lady brought out a girl no older than five. Her skin was a slightly darker shade than the pale skin of the couple and her black hair was a little greyer than theirs. She was groggy and rubbing her orange eyes constantly.

"The mage has come to tell you something, dear." The woman said, motioning her forward.

"King's honor, friend." The mage said, revealing a toothy smile. "I've come from the Wizard's Sanctum."

"Please, small words, she's only five." The man said.

"You know that purple tower across the city?" The mage said without trying to sound pretentious. "I've come from there, and I want to ask if you want to be a mage?"

The girl looked up at him with eyes that were similar to a puppy's. "What's a mage?"

"A mage," the mage knelt down to her height and looked her in the eye, "is someone who wields powerful spells."

"Can a spell bring me home?" The girl said, just before bursting into tears.

The mage's smile faded. What did he do to set her off like that?

"She's our niece, milord." The woman said. "Her parents are from Stratholme and they sent her here after hearing about what happened in Andorhal."

"By the Light…" the mage cursed underneath his breath. Lordaeron had been a major ally that helped Stormwind in her direst of hours, and now she was succumbing to her own tides of darkness. He had only just heard about the plague that had ravaged Andorhal, and what those foul necromancers were doing do the land.

This was news, however, that would be best kept from the girl for the time being.

"There, there now." He reached into his bag and produced a fresh cinnamon roll, offering it to the girl. "Do you like cinnamon rolls?"

The girl gingerly reached for the roll after wiping her eyes. She sobbed between bites, but they slowly faded away as she got halfway through.

"She seems to like it, milord." The uncle said. "Who baked it?"

The mage laughed. "I wouldn't say that I _baked _it, but I did make it?"

"How?" She asked with big, puppy-like eyes.

"Come with me to the Mage Tower, and I will show you how, miss, uh-" He turned towards the aunt and uncle. "What's her name?"

"Aemilia, milord." The uncle said. "Aemilia Dunsbury."

It had been about a decade since that fateful day. Maginor Dumas had taken her in, but instructing a child in the ways of the arcane, especially doing so from nothing, was well beneath him. So she had began her instruction under more junior mages, alongside a cohort of other students at the Academy of Arcane Arts and Sciences. After a series of exams on theories, alongside primers to fire, ice, and arcane magic, she was ready to head out into the field and put her magical abilities to practical use.

She beamed with excitement when she found out she had passed her exams.

_Where will I go? _She thought with anticipation. _Outland? Ashenvale? Theramore!? I've always wanted to meet the great Lady Jaina Proudmoore!_

The thought of going back to her home in Lordaeron was what made her most excited. After all, her parents might be still out there somewhere and they need her help.

Alas, it took a few hours and a missive with her name on it to bring her excitement crashing down.

"Northshire!?" Aemilia yelled out loud, causing her fellow students to look at her in shock. "They want me to go to Northshire!? But that's only several miles from here."

"One must learn to walk before she can run." Maginor Dumas appeared out of the Academy, having overheard her frustration.

"But Sir!" Aemilia said. "I passed all the exams! I got high marks!"

"You did," the Master Mage said. "well, in General Theory and Fire. You got by barely on Ice and Arcane. There will be time to improve, of course."

"But what about the Horde? I hear they're trying to annex Ashenvale. And the Scourge! They're still out there and-"

"Fiery and quick." Maginor said. "Those qualities might help you in the short term, but they will prove your undoing if you can't keep them in check."

She bowed her head, both out of respect and frustration.

"Now go, Aemilia." Maginor said with a booming voice. "Your Kingdom needs you."

She grumbled on the horse all the way to Northshire. So frustrated she was that even the queer festivities of Goldshire escaped her notice. The dueling, the _very _public displays of affection, and beggars all were banished from her thoughts. There was a Night Elf woman who did not seem to have a lot of clothing on that made her giggle, but that was all.

_He thinks I'm not good enough! _She thought.

Her thoughts returned to her parents. She tried to recall the day they rushed her out of bed and into that carriage that took her all the way south. It was all a blur, but she could remember the yelling of the grown-ups outside her house, the stressed, but hushed voices, and the hint of a most vile stench permeating throughout the city.

_Why? _She would always wonder. _Aren't parents supposed to love and cherish their children? Why would they send me away?_

Her grip on the reigns tightened, digging nails into her palm.

"Mom. Dad. I hope you're still out there."

She looked at the map and saw that there was an abbey. Perhaps she could find a priest or paladin to bless them. She was not much for praying to the Holy Light, but it was the least she could do for them. Sometimes she had wondered what would have happened if a man of the Light appeared in her home rather than Maginor Dumas.

It seems that her talents were more aligned with the Arcane than the Light. If the Light was truly out there, perhaps it works in mysterious ways.

A few minutes later, she saw the aforementioned abbey, with a footman in the distance just by the door, near a poster with a kobold's face on it.

She snapped to attention and motioned the horse to trot a little faster. When she got within speaking distance, she dismounted and walked towards the footman.

He was dressed like most members of the King's army. The colors of Stormwind, blue and yellow, were adorned on his tabard with a lion's face emblazoned in the middle.

"I hope you strapped your belt on tight, young mage, because there is work to do here in Northshire, and I don't mean farming."

"Oh, good." Aemilia nervously laughed. "My uncle was a farmer but he's long since retired and did not bother to pass his skills to me."

"Be quiet, mage." The footman said in a stern voice, irritated that he was interrupted. "The guards here are hard pressed to keep the peace here, with so many of us in distant lands and so many threats pressing close." He paused to catch his breath. "And so we are enlisting the aid of anyone willing to defend their home, and their Alliance."

"Anything for the Alliance, Sir" Aemilia said, trying to awkwardly salute the footman.

"If you're here to answer the call, then speak with my superior, Marshal McBride. He's inside the abbey behind me."

She walked into the abbey, looking up and down. It was much smaller and simpler compared to the cathedral in Cathedral Square. Not as many frescoes and elaborate windows, but it was still a place of the Light.

"You over there." She heard a voice calling out to her. "Have you come to aid us?"

"Um, yes." She nodded and lightly jogged in the voice's direction.

She had found yet another footman, but this one did not have a helmet, revealing a pale, bald head with blonde facial hair.

"Ah, good. Another volunteer." He said, signing documents as fast as he could.

"Our lands are being threatened form without, and so many of our forces have been marshaled abroad." He looked up to face her. "This, in turn leaves room for corrupt and lawless groups to thrive within our borders."

He handed her a piece of paper with a small seal on it.

"Aemilia, is it?" He said. "Your first task is one of cleansing. A clan of kobolds have infested the woods to the north. Go there and fight the kobold vermin you find. Reduce their numbers so that we may one day drive them for Northshire."

"Kobolds?" Aemilia asked. She had only heard of those creatures but never came face to face with one. But before she could get an answer, she was pushed aside by the next volunteer in line. It seemed he had little to no time for her.

"Kill ten kobolds?" Aemilia inspected the paper closely as she was on her way out of the abbey. She had entertained fanciful thoughts about fighting the Horde on the frontlines of Alterac Valley, flushing out the treacherous Defias Brotherhood in the Deadmines, and facing the Burning Legion in the Blasted Lands, but perhaps she did not think through the notion of actually killing something.

But here she was. She was assigned to help the Kings men fight the kobold threat in Northshire, and she was not about to disappoint the mages back in the Wizard's Sanctum.

_Right_. She pinched her eyes shut before opening them again. _Let's get to work._


End file.
